


Let Me Go

by Tarnist (Titarnia)



Series: Together Through Everything [3]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Dorks in Love, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Malik Al-Sayf is a prince, Protective Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:00:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23436577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titarnia/pseuds/Tarnist
Summary: Altaïr has been a prisoner for four years when they bring in someone else. When they don't get a response from someone, they decide to use the other one. But Altaïr wont let that happen. Even through his own pain, he protects the other one for half a year before they are rescued.(Slight mention of Altaïr being raped as a teen. Not graphic and really really mildly explained. But you get the jist when you read it.)'Together Through Everything'Is a compilation of, what I thought to be only one-shots, of Altaïr and Malik being adorable dorks in love through all the different AU's I can think of.
Relationships: Malik Al-Sayf/Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad
Series: Together Through Everything [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685524
Kudos: 27





	1. If You Love Me, Let Me Go

**If You Love Me, Let Me Go - part 1**

He was trying to stand though the pain. He would never let them get to the other one. They could break his body all they wanted, as long as they left the other one alone. For the past four and a half years, they had abused his body. They had trained him in the art of sword fighting till he passed out, and then they would abuse his naked body on their soft beds. But half a year ago, they had brought another one in. The other never spoke, only stared at everything in silence. He had heard them talking about a ransom for the other one. When nothing happened, they started to want to use the other one as well. But he had stopped them. Every time he would stand up and shield the other one from them, and it didn’t matter how much pain he was in himself. He would never let them lay a hand on the other one. And even after half a year, he still protected the other one from them. The other one always looked at him with huge eyes when he stood up in a protective stance, his whole body aching and trembling from the abuse it had just been put through. They joked about him being stupid and insane for standing up for someone he didn’t even know. But he didn’t care, they would never get to the other one. Not as long as he could still fight his way through all the pain. 

The other one was screaming when he woke up. They were trying to take him out of the room, forcing themselves on the other one. He would have it. They had no right doing that to the other one. So he stood up and ran over to them. They had the other one in a corner, so he stood up, with his arms spread out in front of the other one. Protecting the other one from them. They seemed to give up on the other one, and instead took him with them. The other one tried to make them stop from taking him, but he just gave the other one a smile, as they dragged him away to be used. He moaned and screamed, as they entered him and bit him. Running their hands all over his bruised body. They bound him and made small cut marks on his skin. Still they kept stretching him out. They had started to go more than one in at a time, and having two men inside of him was almost too much. But he kept on protecting the other one from it. He didn’t want the other one to go through the pain and hurt that he was put through. When they were done, they threw him back into the room with the other one. He could hardly move, but managed to get dressed before sprawling out on the floor. The other one came over, crying. 

“Why are you doing this?” The other one asked, taking hold of his hand. Why was he doing this? He didn’t really know why he did it. He just did. He gave the other one a huge grin, squeezing the other one’s hand. The other one kept crying in silent sobs, never letting go of his hand.


	2. If You Love Me, Let Me Go

**If You Love Me, Let Me GO - Part 2**

They woke up, still holding hands, to the sound of running footsteps on the other side of the door. The other one curled up and he tried to protect the other one from whatever was out there. They heard shouting, and then the door flew open and three men stood and looked down at them. They all stood with a sword in hand. And then the one in the front threw away his sword, bent down on one knee and spread out his arms.

“Malik.” The man whispered, and the other one let go of him to run to the kneeling man. He sat up and looked at them. The man must be the other one’s father. Standing up, they were about to leave when the other one stops his father and turns around to look at him. The man looks over at him, he had stood up as well when they were about to leave the room. The other one looked at his father, and then back at him. The man left the other one with one of the other men, and left the room. The man came closer to him, looking him over before going down on one knee again.

“Would you like to come home with us?” The man asked, looking up at him. He was taller than the man when the man was sitting on one knee like that. The man had taken one of his hands in both of his own, still looking up at him. Did he want to go home with them? Was he allowed to say no? Was he really allowed a choice? He didn’t have anywhere to go. This had been his home for four and a half years now. He looked down at the man and nodded. He would very much like to go home with them. The man stood up, only letting go of his hand with one of his own. Hand in hand, they left the room with the third man. 

When they got outside, the other one was sitting on a horse behind one of the other men. The other one’s father helped him up on another horse, to sit behind the third man who had come through the door. He held on tight to the man in front of him for the whole ride. It was hard for him, he was still in pain. He had begun to think that it always hurt, no matter how much rest he got, his body would always hurt and he would always be in pain. The ride stops, and he is lifted down my the other one’s father. The other one runs up to him and holds him close. It feels nice, being held like that. 

“Go inside and get yourselves washed up.” The other one’s father says, and in the next moment the other one is dragging him inside a huge building. It looks like a whole mansion, just a lot bigger. They are told to strip by a group of women, and so they do. They are then guided to one big bath where the women helps them get clean. He loses focus on what they are doing with the other one, because they start scrubbing his body and his hair. Making sure he is clean all over. They are gentle with him, he knows his pain is showing. So they are gentle with him. They tell him to get in the water, and he does so. And the other one does the same. They sit there, staring at each other as the women cleans up after cleaning them. And then they are alone in the warm water of the bath.


	3. If You Love Me, Let Me Go

**If You Love Me, Let Me Go - Part 3**

The shirt is soft against his skin. He has never had anything that was this soft before. The pants are soft too, and not as tight as they look. He had also gotten actual shoes, shoes that fit him. The other one looked amazing in his clothes. He had gotten a new set that weren’t as dirty as the old ones. A younger version of the other one came in and embraced the other one. Must be the other ones brother. The other one’s mother came in as well, fussing over the other one. And then she saw him, and embraced him as well. She was embracing both of them at the same time. It was nice, she smelled nice. She gave the other one a kiss on the forehead, and did the same to him. She was nice. She was a nice mother. She took the other ones brother with her as she left, smiling at them as she closed the door behind her. He was suddenly really tired, and a yawn escaped him. The other one held out a hand, and he took it. The other one lead him to a bed, and they crawled under the covers and both fell asleep. Holding hands. He was woken when the other one’s father came to see to them, but the man left once he saw them sleeping. The man smiled at them, and tugged the covers further up and over their shoulders. This was nice. He wished he could stay here forever. Stay with the other one, the other one’s father, and mother, and the other one’s brother. 

He had almost forgotten his own name, and he had been unable to tell it to Malik and Kadar and their mother and father. Until he spotted an eagle at the top of one of the towers. It was in the middle of a busy day, and nobody really bothered to look up. So he climbed the tower and he and the eagle looked at one another in amazement. The eagle had taken flight as he had gotten closer. He had looked the way it soared through the sky, away and then back to him. It landed on his outstretched arm, and he remembered a line his father would tell him whenever they saw an eagle.  _ ‘Al nesr al taïr.’ _ The flying eagle. His father had told him his name, so many times had his father called him by name. And in the four and a half year he had been mistreated, he had not heard his name once. He had almost forgotten, that he was the flying eagle. The soaring one. He was Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad. The flying, son of no one. Yet his father was someone, his father was Umar Ibn-La’Ahad. And he remembered who he was. He remembered his father and his own name. He reached up to the eagles head, and it leaned in to the touch of his finger against its head. The eagle flew away as Altaïr stood up and looked down. Downunder him, Malik and Kadar was looking up at him. There was a cart full of hay, and Altaïr jumped. He felt more alive than he had ever felt before. He knew who he was, he was Altaïr. 

“My name.” He breathed out as he got out of the cart and ran towards Malik and Kadar. 

“Your name?” Malik asked, holding out his hands for Altaïr to take. 

“I know my name! I remember my name!” He said, a huge smile all over his face. Kadar stood and looked at them.

“You remember your name? What is it then?” He asked, as eager as Malik to know what their friend was called. He couldn’t wait to tell them. Couldn’t wait for them to call him by his name.

“My name, my name is Altaïr. Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad.” He said, and Malik drew him into a hug and Kadar joined in and they stood there and hugged. 

“Altaïr.” Malik said right into his ear. It was nice, hearing someone saying his name.

“We have to tell baba!!” Kadar exclaimed, beaming up at the two older boys. Malik smiled at Altaïr, and hand in hand they went to find their father to tell them his name.


	4. If You Love Me, Let Me Go

**If You Love Me, Let Me Go - Part 4**

They had cleaned out the place where he had been kept for four and a half years. He had been with Malik and his family for half a year now. He was happy here, and he never wanted to leave them. He was sleeping on his stomach next to Malik, when suddenly the sun was thrown across their faces. Faheem Al-Sayf was opening the curtains in their room, waking the two with the sun. 

“Good morning you two.” He said as he had opened the last curtain and stood at the end of the bed. Malik sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. It was the middle of winter and Malik looked at his father with an evil glare, before retreating back under the covers to Altaïr. 

“What do you want.?” Malik asked, grumpy as ever after being woken up. Altaïr smiled as Malik clung on to him under the covers. 

“Do you know what day it is today?” Faheem asked as he tugged at the covers, trying to get the attention of his son.

“Right now I couldn’t care less.” Malik grumbled and held on tighter to the covers. Altaïr didn’t move. 

“We found some notes and other stuff when ransacking the place where the two of you were held captive. And today just so happened to be Altaïr’s birthday.” He said, giving up on trying to get them up. Altaïr had known he would be sixteen this month, now was the first time he had known the exact date. 

“Liar.” Malik accused.

“Not lying, son. Today is the eleventh of January, the day Altaïr was born.”Faheem said, heaving a sigh as he could not get either of them to move. And then left the room. 

“Happy birthday then.” Malik whispered, his face right in front of Altaïr’s.

“Thanks, I suppose.” Altaïr answered, placing a hand at the back of Malik’s head. Forcing Malik’s head closer to his own, he placed a soft kiss on the other one’s lips. Malik didn’t resist him. Malik never resisted him. Malik did everything he could, so Altaïr would never get hurt again. Altaïr knew he meant it out of love. And so did Malik. 

“Don’t feel like getting out of bed today.” Malik said, looking Altaïr in the eyes. Altaïr made no movement, just stayed in the bed with his hand behind Malik’s head.

“Then stay.” He whispered, and the other one didn’t move away. Didn’t get out of bed. Didn’t leave him alone in the giant bed that had become theirs. He had been offered a room for himself, but he had refused because the other one insisted the bed was big enough for both of them. So for half a year, they had shared a bed. 

They were woken again when Kadar came in, telling Malik that their mother was looking for him. So despite wanting to stay in bed with Altaïr, Malik got up and got dressed. Altaïr turned around, laying now on his back instead of his stomach. Malik always told him, that he had the most beautiful amber eyes. And Altaïr didn’t doubt him. After laying in the bed alone for a while, he too got up and got dressed. He strapped his sword around the waist, and went to the training grounds. He had always found solace in training, especially if someone else needed the attention of Malik. He was the crown prince after all. He had his duties. Altaïr had just been the person the crown prince had decided to fall in love with. And Altaïr was content with knowing that. Some of the knights were training when he got there. One of them, Abbas, had just won against one of the others when he spottedAltaïr.

“Care for a spar, Altaïr?” The young man asked, pointing his sword at Altaïr. he grinned and joined Abbas in the training ring. 

“Don’t go easy on him.” Abbas’ father told Altaïr. Not that he had any intention of going easy on Abbas. The two were the greatest sword fighters, though everyone always said Altaïr was better than Abbas.

“Till only one can stand?” Abbas asked, and Altaïr nodded. He needed to reach his limit. He needed to be tired, to be exhausted. They started circling each other, then Abbas was on the offence and launched at altaïr with the speed of an experienced hunter. Over and over again, Altaïr parried and blocked the swings made for him. There was an opening, and now Altaïr was on the offence. Cutting, slashing, the two of them were speeding up. Both shifting between being on the offence and defence. After many hours of fighting, Abbas slowed down. He was getting tired, and it shown in his fighting. Striking a blow to the man’s ribs with the hilt of his sword, Abbas fell to the ground in exhaustion and pain.

“You win.” Abbas said, accepting Altaïr’s hand. Altaïr helped his friend up and over to his father. 

“You did well, son.” The man said to his son, the two of them walking away from the training ring. From the shadows of an open corridor, Malik approached the ring. Altaïr jumped over the fence and walked towards the other one. 

“You need a bath. You absolutely stink.” malik said, pinching his nose as Altaïr stood still in front of him. He grinned at the crown prince, and together they went inside. Altaïr leaving Malik in the bedroom so he could get a bath. He really did need one, didn’t he.


	5. If You Love Me, Let Me Go

**If You Love Me, Let Me Go - Part 5**

He had been with Malik for two years now. Once they had both turned eighteen, they had told Faheem about their relationship. He had been rather accepting of it, and so had Kadar and their mother. Soon, the whole kingdom knew. Altaïr even heard the women talking about a wedding. Altaïr didn’t need a wedding to prove he would always stay by Malik’s side. For as long as he had known the other one, Altaïr had always been there for him. So when they announced their relationship, Altaïr was appointed Malik’s personal bodyguard. Neither of them minded. Malik was great with a sword, but he would rather not use it. 

People around him had started referring to him as ‘The eagle’ because of how he liked to climb high places. The eagles also seemed to have taken a liking to him, so there was that to add to the reason. He was sitting in a high place, an eagle on each of his shoulders, when Malik appeared behind him. The eagles had accepted the presence of Malik from time to time. But when Faheem or Kadar found him with the eagles, the eagles fled and didn’t come back before Altaïr once again was alone. 

“So this is where you are.” The other one said, as he sat down beside Altaïr. 

“This is where I am.” He agreed, taking hold of Malik’s hand. They looked out over the palace. Their home. The eagle on Altaïr’s shoulder that was towards Malik, crawled over and sat on Malik’s shoulder. Malik took that as a sign, and leaned over, wrapping both arms around Altaïr’s and placing his head on his shoulder. Altaïr tipped his head, so it was laying on top of Malik’s. 

“Father is calling for you.” Malik whispered after a moment of silence. 

“Care to jump with me?” Altaïr asked, lifting his head to look at Malik.

“Sure.” Came the other one’s reply. Standing up, the eagles flew off of their shoulders. and , hand in hand, they took a leap of faith. They both landed in the haystack. Malik rolled over to sit on top of Altaïr. They looked at each other for a moment.

“What?” Altaïr asked, looking up at Malik with a questioning look.

“You are the most beautiful and amazing person I know.” Came Malik’s reply, and then his lips were on Altaïr’s. Altaïr kissed back. He loved it when they kissed. There was something great about it, something utterly perfect. 

Faheem was in the throne room waiting for Altaïr. It seemed like he wanted to talk about actually doing the wedding thing, and wanted Altaïr’s opinion on it. Altaïr wasn’t against it. If the nation needed proof that he would stay with Malik forever, so be it. It is what it is, after all. Sounds came from outside the throne room, and the bell was ringing. Faheem looked at Altaïr with worry.

“Find Kadar and Malik. Make sure they are safe.” he said, and then Altaïr was off. Running through the descending chaos, they were under attack. He found the two of them with their mother, they had hidden in her room and two men were trying to force her away from them. Altaïr killed the first man by beheading him. With another swift move, his sword was deep in the guts of the second man. Sadly, they had killed her before Altaïr could come to her rescue.

“We must leave. It’s not safe for you here.” He said, reaching out a hand to Malik who was holding Kadar close. They ran through the palace, Altaïr making sure neither of them got hurt. They reached a corridor that ended blind, but the three of them knew better. They knew there was a hidden passage at the end. A passage that led out and away from the palace.

“Altaïr!” Kadar screamed as more attackers came from behind them.

“Go! Run! Get to safety!” Altaïr urged on, pushing the two brothers behind him. Kadar reached the end before Malik. Malik was standing close to Altaïr, not wanting to leave his love behind.

“Brother!” Kadar called, growing more and more nervous by the second. More and more attackers were coming.

“Kill the princes!” One of them yelled as Altaïr fought them off.

“Malik!” Altaïr shouted, as he looked behind him. Malik hadn’t moved much. “If you love me, leave. Be safe. Malik. If you love me, let me go.” He whispered through the fight, and then he pushed Malik into the waiting arms of Kadar. Kadar dragged his brother after him. Malik tried to resist, but understood Altaïr’s words. Malik had to flee, because he loved Altaïr. And Altaïr had to stay, because he loved Malik. So Malik let him go. Malik let him stay and fight.

He had been knocked out, and when he woke up he was in chains. Two men stood before him, one was a sorcerer the other the leader who had decapitated the king. The sorcerer came closer, wrapping a hand around Altaïr’s throat. He then removed Altaïr’s voice. For days, Altaïr screamed at them. But no sound came out. In the end he gave up. He stopped trying. He was once again a puppet. Once again, he was only there to be used. Through the years, he was glad to hear they still searched for Malik and Kadar. It meant they weren’t dead. And it made Altaïr able to carry on, to keep enduring the pain and torture he was put through. 


End file.
